Crosshatch condensation
Locks latched, it’s my condition
The roil of sermon heresy
Valerian, my angel of mercy
We did, we asked the council
We were blown back by the answer
Something is on in the tower
Break me from Leo down to Cancer
Grafted with scars around cardia
Planted, the rhizome is hardier
Shoulders turned in discretion
Moldered in flagging affections
The trap is active
An approach is gradual
The seconds are slurring
In motions so casual
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